


Hierarchy

by Desdimonda



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Blood, Cunnilingus, Dom Lucifer, Dom MC, Dom/sub, F/M, Feels then smut, Light Dom/sub, Light Sadism, Oral Sex, Pact seal use naturally, Post-Ending, Restraint, Rough Sex, Submission, sadistic Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: Lucifer and Ivy have had a quaint afternoon in the greenhouse planting roses, but in truth, Lucifer has been having a Bad Day, and craves the touch - and command - of his lover.
Relationships: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 189





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've binged Obey Me in a few days and I'm obsessed. Now stuck in social isolation I've found my desire to write again after like 8 months. Please be kind I'm very rusty aaaaaaaaaaaa but I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Mammon and Lucifer are my absolute favs but I find Mammon SO hard to write. anyway. porn :)

“How old are you?” asked Ivy, pushing down the soil of her pot, careful of the delicate rosebud at its centre.

Lucifer paused, watching the dead leaf of his clipped rose, fall. “I stopped counting when I fell to Devildom.”

The words were simple, level, contained within the foliage of the greenhouse they’d spent the most of the afternoon in. It was warm here, and he’d shed his coats down to his black shirt, rolled to the elbows. They were hung up on a decorated peg by the door next to Ivy’s gold threaded scarf - a gift from Mammon.

Ivy lifted the pot onto the shelf with the others. All that was left was the rose bush in his hands. “I find that hard to believe,” said Ivy as she pulled off her gloves and leant against the counter, hip to wood. “Diligent, poised, perfect Lucifer doesn’t remember when he fell to hell?”

He plucked a leaf clean off its stem, casting its life aside. “The transition was...complicated.” He leaned forward on the table, claws pricking the wood top harder than he wished. “The war lasted  _ years _ \- years that merged into each other, that we don’t all remember individually - or  _ want _ to. And the years down here haven’t all been...smooth.” 

Nails gnawed at wood as he talked, picking deep, dark trenches to bury his words. 

Ivy reached out, tentative, hand poised above Lucifer’s, before she touched lightly, the dim blue of the garden lights washing over the golden mark of her pact with Mammon. 

They hadn’t told her about that part. That a mark would manifest on her skin upon creating a pact. It hadn’t been painful, just...odd. A tether to her demon, a brand of their bargain. Why didn’t  _ they _ get one, she’d asked. “Because in the end, we offer  _ more _ ,” Lucifer had said, simply. Proudly. 

Sometimes she touched Lucifer’s when she was lonely, afraid...aroused.

Did he know? She never asked. He never told.

“You never talk about the war, the years that followed.” Her hand trailed up his exposed arm, indented with two large scars. 

“I doomed my brothers, my sister, because of my pride, which became my  _ definition _ .” Claws shredded the wood beneath his hand. Ivy held steady, held firm, feeling the demon beneath desperate for release. 

“You don’t really believe that,” she said softly. “You stood against tyranny, and for what you believe in. It just-” It was hot where his wings spread out from at his back, Ivy could feel the heat burn through his shirt as she ran her fingers up, and down, braving the impending yawn of black feathers, sharp enough to cut. “It just...failed.” But they never came.

“I, failed.” His claws retracted, leaving behind shreds of wood at their tips. 

Ivy said nothing. She touched one of his scars.

Lucifer flinched, a hazy memory yanked like a too long embedded thorn. 

_ It’s not her fault. _

He swallowed.

_ It’s not her fault you remember. _

“I failed and what am I now?” Lucifer smirked. “Satan had it right, a glorified  _ lap dog _ , with no mind of my own. All I do, I do for Diavolo.”

Ivy’s hand hovered above his arm. She’d felt that flinch, and she suspected. She was afraid to touch, afraid to unravel memories that weren’t hers to be unpacked. Lightly, she brushed his stomach, and looked up. “Is  _ all  _ you do, just for him?”

A growl, low and feral rumbled from his chest, a chest that pushed Ivy against the worktop, the wood biting at her lower back. She looked up, the red of his eyes a slit against the monochrome of his beauty. “Let me see my brand,” he demanded, fingers clawing down the front of her chest, already unhooking a button, and another. He didn’t wait for an answer.

Of all seven brands, Lucifer’s was the most elaborate. And it had  _ hurt,  _ unlike the others, when it was etched onto her skin with an invisible hand. Lucifer had watched, plucking apart her shirt - just like now - as the delicate lines formed, it felt like the times she’d gotten a tattoo in the human realm. 

And as he watched, she wondered how much control they had in their brands. Enough that the symbolism represented each brother individually, but beyond that, they simply appeared on her skin with the unseen magic that held their bonds together.

Until Lucifer. 

It was as if he guided the lines himself, by eye, as if searing the skin himself with just a look. Ivy had been too afraid to touch it until she felt the pain settle, afraid it might cut away her finger. But she’d watched, curiously, as his wings were branded onto her skin - one set black, the other white. The bottom wings spread across the top of her breasts, moving as she breathed. 

Just like now.

Lucifer traced the brand with a painted nail, glowing red beneath its demon’s touch. “You never use your...gift.” He paused at his last word, catching her eyes as he spoke, making sure she knew that it was exactly that. A gift, he’d given. 

Ivy tilted her head, spreading her hand on his stomach, pushing.

He pushed back, claws extending against her bare chest. “Why?”

“I know you enjoy being in control,” said Ivy, delicately, watching the quiver in his touch. “So why take that away?”

There was little warning before Lucifer hoisted Ivy onto the worktop, knocking an empty pot to the floor with a gentle thud. But after, he just, stopped.

“Use it.” The words licked against her ear, low and longing as he clawed a hand through her ruby rose hair, the restraint in his touch a whisper against her neck. “Take it away.” A claw, two, pressed against the nape of her neck. “Before I lose it.” 

Ivy could barely breathe.

She turned, their faces so close his eyelashes kissed her cheek, as he waited. And waited. The tremor of his composure, waning, as their eyes met.

Her voice cracked, shaken with desire and  _ power _ , as she spoke. “I command you, Lucifer, to fall to your knees.” 

And he did.

Dust and compost smeared his pristine trousers as the brand glowed at her words, pulling on the tether in their bond, and executing her command.

Lucifer looked up, arms tightly held at his side, awaiting her command. A shock of hair stuck to the edge of his lips, parted, the desperation of an order tucked behind, wanting.

Watching, waiting, Ivy unhooked the buttons of her shirt. Lucifer’s arms twitched against his invisible restraints. Again. Again.

Click. The last button of her shirt, and it slid open, the soft cotton catching on the peak of her nipples as she leaned forward, a wash of red hair her veil, as she gazed down from above. “Can you speak?”

“Yes.” Simple, weak. The single word almost lost behind his lips, shadowed by the  _ fury  _ in his eyes. Ivy knew each of the brothers reacted differently to their seals commands - a reflection of their power, she assumed. And with pride, something like this  _ must  _ be a struggle, despite the circumstance. And she hadn’t yet begun to consider the impact of their emotional bond either. 

Lucifer was inches away from the edge of the worktop, and her spread legs. His eyes followed her every movement as she leaned forward more, an arm reaching out to pluck the lock of hair from his lips. 

He bared a fang. Ivy touched, rolling a thumb along the sharp tip.

_ Hiss.  _

He tried to bite down, but he  _ couldn’t.  _

Slip. One finger, two, tugged at his bottom lip, pulling away.

A sharp gust of wind almost knocked Ivy back against the glass wall as Lucifer’s wings snapped out loud and wide, as his horns curved to a dangerously delicate point, as he trembled, weighted by the power of his demonic visage, succumbed to its knees.

Breathless, Ivy touched a horn, clicking a nail along the deep ridges, indented by the moonlight. “How long can it restrain your power,” she asked, a quiver of fear coiling around her trepidation.

Lucifer simply stared. Crimson tipped eyes, fearless, cloying. “Why don’t you try and see?”

A challenge. A goad. She dragged her nail deeper against his horn, remembering from their first night together how  _ sensitive  _ they were. And from the way his bound body quivered, the touch did not disappoint. 

“Take off my trousers,” she said, watching his deft fingers slipping open the decorated buttons. “And careful of those claws.” Ivy chided, pushing back a falling lock of his hair. 

“These?” Slowly, achingly, he rolled down her trousers as commanded, dragging the tips of his claws along her thighs, just enough to mark, to let her remember their  _ true  _ hierarchy.

It was enough to make her forget his leash, for her to relinquish a thread of control as she quivered beneath the claws, revelling in the spike of pain that he knew she loved. 

But just, a moment. A moment he’d pay for.

Naked, but for her shirt, she snapped to his gaze, watching the red flare in his eyes as she gave her command. “Hands behind your back until I say you can move them.”

She watched him test the restraint at once. Unyielding, but for the quake of his wings, curling around his body, seeking hers like a maw. The tip of a feather touched her arm. Ivy moaned, pressing her thighs against the worktop, the wooden ledge biting into her thick flesh.

“You won’t last,” whispered Lucifer, shaded by the canopy of his wings, the moonlight broken through the stipple of ruffled feathers. 

Ivy smirked. “I don’t need your hands.”

Lucifer licked his fang.

“I command you,” she whispered, brushing her fingers against his cheek-

“Careful with your choice of words, Ivy,” lulled Lucifer as he felt her touch his lip, so close to a fang. It whispered for the lick of blood. “Demons make a meal of humans, in more ways than one.”

Ivy bit her lip at his teasing, but she knew the seal would understand her command. This, is where their emotional bond  _ worked _ . It understood on a level more primal than words. Shuffling to the edge of the worktop, Ivy leaned down, close, tilting her lover’s head up with a pinch. 

He was ravenous, the ruby in his eyes eclipsing the white. It painted his lashes, singed with the power of hell. She wondered what colour they’d been in heaven.

“I command you,” she drawled against his ear, silky strands catching her curled lips, “to eat me.”

All Ivy heard was a low, raw growl, before her legs were spread, sharply. She braced herself, looking twice as the ebony feathers of his wings wrapped around her thighs and held her steady, as Lucifer leant forward, looked up, and bared a fang. Before the flash of his eyes closed, and he drew his tongue along her damp slit, achingly slow. 

Snap. Her hands clamped onto his horns, fingers slip, sliding across the rough ridges, bitten by battle, and worn by war, she touched their memories as she head his head, a loose guidance met by a growl of resistance, resistance that tightened the feathers at her thighs, turning the skin around the ebony, ivory.

Ivy, sang. Her moans kissing his ears with every stroke of his tongue, with every brush of his lips across flesh he knew; he knew just where to touch to pluck the melody of her song, timed to the beat of her heart, thrumming against the tips of his feathers.

Doing this beneath the seals command was...different. It was like a noose around his neck that would tighten in struggle with his power and pull him back down,  _ down,  _ if he stopped, and somehow, that made it  _ better.  _

Lucifer paused, pulling back to simply watch. For a moment. 

She was always so breathless. Loud. Void of shame. Her hands wrung with desperation as they twisted through his hair, his horns.

He shivered as he smelled blood drip, drip from her finger. She’d nicked it on the tip of his horn again. Lucifer licked his fang as he felt the noose tighten.

“You’re resisting it,” breathed Ivy, her staggered words delicious against Lucifer’s ears. She drew her hand along his horn. Lucifer could almost taste the blood as she smeared it across his horn, trickling over the moonlit ridges.

“You’d rather I comply?” he said against her thigh. 

Ivy laughed, pushing him back down by the horns. He spread her thighs, more.

The floor bit into his knees, the cold forgotten from the heat of her flesh, of her thighs against his face, drowned in decadence. The earthy smell of the shifted compost was so distinct against Ivy’s familiar, heavy scent. Sweet, but tart - like blood.

Insatiable.

She moved, relentlessly. And the closer she got, the more his wings struggled to pin her in place, the sleek feathers imprinting her thick flesh. He felt his claws unsheathe on instinct the more she moved. Often, he’d latch on to her with a biting hand to keep her exactly where he wanted her. Her body was marked with his permanence, endlessly.

“Lucifer.”

A single whisper of his name slipped past her lips. 

He curled his tongue, slowly, feeling every quiver of her body from lips, to lips. She tasted  _ hot. _ Sweet. Decadent. There wasn’t enough time left to devour her whole.

Lucifer could feel her tremble, he could feel her thighs struggle against his wings, pinned to the wood, dimpled from the pressure.  _ ‘Stay’  _ he mouthed against her slit. But what position was he in to demand?

She tugged on his horns once more, and he obeyed, feeling the breathlessness of the noose. 

His tongue spoke his desire, locked away, untouched, and pressed tightly against his trousers -  _ begging. _

Crack.

The noose frayed against a surge of his power. Ivy felt it too, felt it radiate from the brand on her chest, glowing a soft red. She trembled, with more than pleasure.

Another moan, another cry, another twist of his hair through fingers, stained with blood. Lips pursed around her bud, he pulled, feeling the surge in pleasure. She was almost there. Nails scratching - “ _ Lucifer! _ \- 

And with one last touch, she was there, a silent cacophony of bliss spread through her body, curling her toes, arching her back in a paint of opulence, as if she spread her wings like the angel she was, beside the angel he used to be.

“Release me,” he demanded against her trembling thighs, the ends of his wings pricking the skin. 

Ivy, breathless, looked down through her veil of ruby hair, met with an unwavering gaze. “I-I release you, Lucifer-”

She hadn’t even finished saying his name when Lucifer flipped Ivy around and pinned her against the worktop, cradling her bare back against his chest. He lifted her bloodied finger to his lips, and licked, drawing a fang along the broken skin. A moan touched his throat, hungry, raw. 

His wings spread wide, blocking out the moonlight to a trickle, before wrapping around Ivy like a claw, the tips grazing her arms, her hands and tangling with her ruby hair.

Lucifer stretched a hand along her spine, up, up. “Time to put you in your place.”

  
  
  
  



	2. Devour, to Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She feels his length press against her back. Skin, heat, to skin. Ivy pushes against him, desperate. But he pushes back, a hand back against that marred spine, obscuring Satan’s scribe.
> 
> Inch, by inch, he leans down, and down, to her ear, lingering against the shell as whispers of his hair glance her cheek, words kissing their promise.
> 
> “Only if they try to claim you will they truly know wrath.”
> 
> Ivy smirks, turning enough so he sees; loud enough so he hears. She touches the scribe at her back with a golden nail. “It kills you to look at these, doesn’t it?”

_ Mine- _

-traces Lucifer along her spine, branded with Satan’s seal. His delicate cursive spelling out their pact and promise might be a touching beauty to others, but right now to Lucifer it was fury. A mark that didn’t belong by a hand that wasn’t allowed. 

_ Mine- _

-echoes the word in his head as the demonic script on her back threatened to speak out in his voice, licked from his smug lips. He was  _ constantly  _ reminded that she was tethered to all seven of them, and he had been the  _ last.  _

The last.

But the only one who-

“I own you,” he says against her neck, dragging the words along the damp nape with his fangs, feathered in her red hair. He can still taste the metal of her blood, and he hungers.

Ivy shivers, almost afraid to move as she feels his fangs press so hard they pierce. She whines. But it’s smothered by his other hand, the tremor of desperation still lingering in his touch.

“No-one else,” he says, picking up her arm and pressing a single finger along the mark of Leviathan’s serpent. “No matter what they offer you.” He thrusts her hand to her back, tucking the golden tipped fingers away, as he presses himself against her. Harder. “Or  _ how much. _ ” Two fingers drag along the single void flower that represented Beelzebub, and marked her upper arm. “I don’t care if they offer themselves.” An arm reaches down, down her bare stomach and claws over Asmodeus’ crown of thorned roses, in a soft pink bloom for spring. The tips of his fingers touch her lips, wet and wanting. “Or,” he pauses, drawing a knee between her thighs. In one swift motion he pushes them apart, unforgiving. Knee to Belphegor’s dagger, he sighs, satisfied at the warmth he feels between her legs. “Or, even if they offer someone else.” 

She feels his length press against her back. Skin, heat, to skin. Ivy pushes against him, desperate. But he pushes back, a hand back against that marred spine, obscuring Satan’s scribe.

Inch, by inch, he leans down, and down, to her ear, lingering against the shell as whispers of his hair glance her cheek, words kissing their promise.

“Only if they try to claim you will they  _ truly  _ know wrath _. _ ”

Ivy smirks, turning enough so he sees; loud enough so he hears. She touches the scribe at her back with a golden nail. “It  _ kills  _ you to look at these, doesn’t it?”

_ Slam. _

Ivy tries to catch her breath as her chest meets the table, but she inhales a mouthful of compost and leaves, one hand bracing the impact as the other is held film by Lucifer. 

_ Snap.  _

His wings spread, wide and wild, a steadying force as he pulls back, just enough, just a breath, before he slams into Ivy, no word, no warning, with his hot, hard cock. 

A long, luxurious cry fills the greenhouse, dripping from Ivy’s lips as she scrambles for semblance, her vision obscured to void. She pulls, pulls against Lucifer’s hold, desperate for her own.

He pauses. Holding it and her as he fills her up, her wet lips slicking him to the hilt. Gold nails struggle beneath his immovable hold; her thighs shake. 

She whines.

“Humans,” he says, gentle, lustful, against her neck, “are so fragile.” He punctuates with a kiss.

Ivy trembles, biting her lip so hard it bleeds. She sucks it clean, keeping her lips snapped shut so he can’t scent it, but it’s probably already too late. She felt  _ him  _ tremble, that low, feral growl from toe, to feather tip.

She liked to move when fucked. And he  _ knew _ that. Her body, restless. Her desire, wild. She wanted to feel herself, him, and she wanted to see everything, not just these crumbs of dirt that littered the table and licked her lips. 

Golden nails bite his hand. They were as strong as claws. Sometimes, she filed them to a point. How she wished she’d done that today.

“Ivy,” he drawls, as he thrusts, clutching the table for support. “Are you trying to break free?”

Silence. She stares at the cloud of red curls that bounce with each thrust and clenches her hand.

“You’re going  _ no-where. _ ”

Oh.

For a brief second, she is free. The weight of his grip, relinquished. But it’s a ruse. 

Claws pierce her skin, through hand to back, pinning her  _ firmly  _ in place. Lucifer thrusts a moment after, fiercer, harder, driven by her cry; a cry that’s not simply pain. The rush of being claimed -  _ maimed _ \- it’s uncontrollable, as she throws back her head, the fire of curls catching with his feathers that surround them in an ebony maw, ready to devour.

_ Devour me. _

It sings in her head as he thrusts into her, relentlessly, endlessly, weeps of hot blood spreading across her back, smearing across Satan’s script, obscuring his promise. Lucifer smiles, watching it be consumed by her blood, wondering if he can tell. 

He pauses. 

Ivy moans, turning around as much as she can, pulling on the bonds that hold. The moon touches his horns, sharpening the tips to pearl as Lucifer tilts his head down, face obscured in shadow but for his ruby eyes. Curiously, she notices the diamond on his forehead glows to match his eyes now, thin lines streaking from it to his eyes. She stares, bewildered by its raw beauty.

A single claw graces her chin, piercing her in place as he leans closer -  _ closer  _ \- until he breathes against her ear, a single, succulent word, falling - “ _ What? _ ”

Her tongue speaks, as it draws up, along his finger, tasting the hellfire of his touch. 

Lucifer resumes his thrusts, slower. Cradling Ivy’s face, he stares into her orange eyes, begging her to try to break free again; to give him permission to  _ secure _ , to add another layer to her claimed body. 

He slips his fingers over her lips, feeling a nip of teeth on his fingers. Lucifer smirks. He thrusts hard, sending Ivy sliding across the table, the roses cascading to their sides.

Ivy cannot stop another biting cry. She’s almost there, a peak reached in a blink. “Is that it?”

_ Thud. _

Her head meets the table, her gaze hazy as she stares at the fallen roses, so tenderly handled but an hour before by a touch as soft as air. She smiles, tugging on a lip, feeling the weep of blood trickle down her side. Drip. Drip.

“You,” he says, hoisting her higher, while keeping his claws firmly sunk into her back, “ _ will  _ know your place.” His knee meets the wood, spreading her further, as he fucks,  _ faster _ . “Tell me,” he says, words staggered through his thrusts, his breaths desperate. “What is it?”

Ivy can barely breathe, all she can do is  _ feel;  _ feel Lucifer, within, without, around, the shudder of his feathers brushing against her arm as she braces against the table, feeling like her nails might break. A gasp, sharp and biting, hits her lungs as he hits her spot again. Unashamed, she sings his name, the melody ready to shatter the greenhouse glass, if only she remembers to breathe.

“I-I’m-” she begins, feeling the peak of her climax,  _ there.  _

“What?” Lucifer can barely whisper the word, it falls, desperate, against her ear. His body trembles, the flutter of his wings turning inwards the closer he climbs.

“ _ Yours _ .”

The word touches his lips, as they kiss. Breathless. As they climax, their desperate union weaving together, crested by one of Hell’s moon, claimed by one of its Lords.

Lucifer’s wings spread out above them, still, basking the moment in silent beauty as he holds Ivy tight, needy, as his seed fills her and spills, trickling down her thick thighs, already wet and stained by her juices and blood. Lucifer growls, slowly relinquishing his claws from her back, kissing her softly with each motion, feeling her orgasm still ripple through her body, easing the pain.

“Mine,” he whispers, and again, to Ivy, to the moon, to Hell and Heaven. 

He trembles. Ivy’s legs give out. He catches her, his wings curling around them instinctively as they fall in a gentle heap to the greenhouse floor, their clothes a soft landing for Lucifer, but all Ivy feels is Lucifer, as he envelops her, completely.

From devour, to deliverance. 

Lucifer, so featherlight, touches her back, where five claw marks sit, still bleeding, and rips the bottom off his shirt, before tying it around her torso, stemming the blood. “I’ll get something from Barbatos to help heal,” he whispers against her cheek as he takes her injured hand, and does the same, wrapping it tightly in the soft, black fabric.

Ivy smiles, closing her eyes, as his feathers blanket her trembling body.

They sit, with nothing but each other, and the night.


End file.
